She walked along smoothly, her muscles still a little tight from the long climb, sweat rings at her neck and down her back, making a darker shade of grey on her pale blouse and skirt. Tilting her head from side to side, she rubbed away tension at her neck, thinking she heard something. He was there, watching her, lurking at the turn of the stair. He listened for her light footfalls and loomed up before her like a shadow in the smoky light. She turned and looked, leaning forwards towards him, her breasts jutting delicately beneath her garments. At the same time she is half bending away as reaches out to snatch at her fine fingers.
"I can wait. I'm not going anywhere.......for a while at least," He hinted full of sinister insinuation. She shivered as the whispered importuning of his promises proved too much. She turned and twisted her hand from his, leaving him snatching at the air and fleeing giggling down the long corridor. He ached for her and the silence that follows her departure, echoed in his mind.
"I must have her. I must and I will."
"And yet," that whispering voice reminded him."Remembering in a dream can be like seeking to drown slowly in a moat flooded with watery messages outside this fortress."
Her hand descended into the murky waters and finally disappeared from view with a gentle, little splash. She sighed, rose and walked from the pathway where she had crouched to the edge of the mere, calling softly into the murky wash. Wading out, waist deep, the folds of her dress floating around her, her feet feeling for the drop off, she seeks any sign. There the bubbles trailed up from the deep and there she plunges in, head first! The green-grey water blinded her at first as she groped through the cold wetness, running her hand over the mossy, weedy bottom. Her breath comes deeply as she finds his outline and sees the eyes staring at her, hard and cold and very green.
Her lungs strain for oxygen but still she stays, frantically kicking at the restraint of her heavy dress, fighting with her feet and legs moving along, feeling his shape. The surface of the water bursts with their coming up for air, gasping and drawing in large gulps of spring fragrance. She pushed the hair out of her face as the bodies of ancient reptiles hit and glide the surface of the water, hit and glide, hit and glide in a recurrent nightmare as the armoured creatures fell into ranks, approaching her. She quickly stripped off the dress, tearing at the neck and sleeves.
Kicking off her shoes, her eyes leap from place to place in the water. She felt so alone for she cannot see him in the mist hovering low over the water and yet she cannot make herself go to shore, knowing that he was still here, struggling to wake from this nightmare. The scene, surrealistic, seemed to slow, frame by frame as she struggled, her muscles cramping, her legs weakening. Her slide through the air was a denial, lips puckered, awaiting the pink kiss of eternity across her. That mark of dread creatures closing -- her face more wet with tears, lurching as she was pulled under again by the wake of the lunging beast.....
"Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!"
She blinked, her heart thumping in her chest. The sweat made her long hair stick to her face and neck and shoulders. She sat up, shivering in a stream of desire and gazes at her reflection in the rippling stream of the mirror. Her face seemed to flow away as her thoughts like fishes darted through it into the shadows. Bolt upright, she looked around with wide frightened eyes.
"Where are you?"
He bent down and clutched at her shadow, catching only a handful of light. He leant over her now. He seemed dark and hairy against the smooth white flesh and the wide openness of her open eyes.
"Hey?"
"Yes?"
She smiled and then grimaces: "I just had the most awful dream!"
And pushed towards him to embrace him: "I'm so glad it was a dream!"
He nodded, touching her cheek and she leant into his hand, closing her eyes, but pushing them open again save this too be a dream gone before it could be savoured, gone in a wash of anxiety. Draped now in thin white silk. Her hair braided upon her head. One braid hung loose and she brushed it back with sleepy hand. She breathed out, a long warm sigh, as her mouth tasted him. Her body felt him and her, together, binding skin to skin. Then they were into the passion, arms round one another. Lips seeking. Nothing to hear in the eerie silence but plenty to see. Mouths meeting as the door shuts.
And she adored it.
"Do I presume?"
"Oh yes!"
She wriggled on the bed, offering him freedom, he hopes and flesh that grew ever warmer under his touch. He towered above her, hard and muscly, hirsute and fleshy. Her mouth became a voyager, travelling to kiss and nibble and taste the boundaries of his realm, seeking the secrets to enter and know. Outspread before him, her eyes look up adoringly at him. Her hands reached up to that throbbing upright fleshy rampart. He, however, desired her to taste
Her voice soft, yet filled with desire, was overwhelmed by his seeming reticence and restraint. She was soon panting. Lips twisted in an expression of ecstacy, crying out her hot wishes. Insatiable in her desire. She needed it. She deserved it. She must have it.
"Oh I can't....," she gasped for mercy. "Yet, if I cannot..I will go mad! Please! Please! Please resolve this for me. Please say yes!"
She was his. And she would stand quiet and content until morning pushed up his day there across the sea -- and her kisses -- were there to be planted on those hard fortifications. His length and his hardness. Were her hands longer and her fingers wise? Would she yet run them up and down the flesh that fascinated her? Her body was firm and white as the marble floor. Will it grow like marble inflamed under his enchantment? Would it thrust itself up and down and from side to side. Her shoulders, her back, her behind - all to be marked with his kiss?
"You are driving me crazy!" Her brilliant eyes simmered, flaring with the heat of wanting. Her body, molten to the touch, fevered with blood flowing into her valleys and clefts. The sensation building, aching and throbbing within her.
"And you are simply delicious!" He quivered back, red and rude. He stood stock still as she inched herself down upon his puissance. She might have buried her face in his thatch and allow her unbraided hair to flow across him, licking her eager lips to ponder these questions and many others. Her mouth might climb that tower as required and tastes the succulent dew --sweet and warm on her tongue -- a tongue knowing that silken crown. A tongue sufficiently experienced to draw it deeper and deeper into her, taking again and again. Enjoying the way he leapt like a salmon under her angler's bait, even as she looks up at him longingly.
He touched her and she took him with suckling muscles, working within her elegant neck. His hands tangled in her long hair and she looked. His face tensed, his fists clenched and he jets straight and white and frothy, as lips part to moan, his low throated rumble, music in her ears. Her greedy mouth taking over, taking more and more, more than could ever be believed possible. Her cheeks hollowed and her throat relaxed, and further into her throat he pressed. She hummed, vibrating the crown of his need, attaining the unattainable.
"Have mercy on me!"
Sucking and suckling, her long, delicate fingers touch and caress, stroking, playing, urging and chasing round and round the root of his desire. Her eyes fall on the shadows his firm body creates, looming over hers: there in that vertical meld. Her long hair accented their penumbra. His long, strong legs emphasized another. Then, their heads were together, leaning in and then joined. The sheet beneath her back was slick . The cotton was stuck between her wet thighs as she came too. Shutting her eyes. There were tears in them. Burying her head in the pillow her thighs upthrust over the other pillow, giving him better access to her forbidden centre.
"Some day, " she thinks. " I WILL get even for this!"
Staring at the candle as it burns for her and she for him. Her face a flame of delight at what he does to her. She gasps possessively in rhythm to his thrustings. He withdraws. He said nothing. Her eyes are wide, but the tears do not move in them. The candle in the bedroom of this sweet lady has no need to be used as that in the cells of the novice in the nearby convent or the shivering country virgin in her thatched cottage room. She did not lack for company.
"Here I am, helpless to reply to his silence!" She murmured to herself and to his picture, aching to devour him. She could not believe that a man had rendered her speechless -- wordless for that matter! Yet a spider on the wall, a book by the bed, a gleam of light reflected on the ceiling above them were all witness to her open mouthed silence and all glow in their envy. Rubbing her flanks against him, demanding : "More.....always more?"
"I...I'm so wet now and you are driving me to pain!," she laughed and the tears ran down her face as she added reflectively. "I promise....Word Master............friend?"
Click the icon to return to the index